


walking in time

by gunwoong



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: (meaning not a lot happens), Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Dialogue Heavy, Existential Angst, Jaehyun Has a Crush, M/M, Magical Realism, Relationship Discussions, Team Dynamics, bbangnyukyu are each other's rocks, cw: vomiting, sunwoo is bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunwoong/pseuds/gunwoong
Summary: It's a Wednesday like any other until Sunwoo, Chanhee, Younghoon, and Jaehyun walk out of the movie theater and realize a lot has changed. The world isn't the same and neither are they once they start thinking about how much they might have just lost.
Relationships: Bae Joonyoung | Jacob/Lee Jaehyun | Hyunjae, Choi Chanhee | New/Ji Changmin | Q/Kim Younghoon, Ju Haknyeon/Kim Sunwoo
Comments: 30
Kudos: 140





	walking in time

**Author's Note:**

> this is so weird i don't know how to explain it, but lemme try:
> 
> \- first and foremost: it's really just these 4 characters throughout the whole story! but the relationship tags are relevant, which is why i added them. please keep that in mind going in!! i don't think it's fair to leave the tags out since it'd mislead people who don't want to read about these ships? because these relationships are really important here.  
> \- this is an old idea that i somehow only got to use now because it felt very fitting for my mood these past few months. i wanted to explore these dynamics too, and i guess this whole thing [gestures vaguely at the world we're living in] just made it happen.  
> \- 3rd person pov but slightly sunwoo-centric because i'm me.  
> \- ha:tfelt's album "1719" (which i was listening to on repeat for the first 10k of this) just set the tone for everything. elizabeth bishop's "[one art](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47536/one-art)" inspired me somewhat too because that poem always makes me super sad.
> 
> there are "a quiet place" **spoilers** about 3k words in!! just a heads up!!
> 
> thanks to [jenny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpletulips), who is, as always, the biggest hypewoman one could hope for and who made me think a lot about loss and weird choices and just human relationships in general, i guess. ily!
> 
> tl;dr - this is kinda weird so if anyone ends up reading this, thank you!

_"I’m trapped in a different place, different time  
I'm still looking for the same you in the same place  
time won’t pass without you, no  
you're still in me"_

([walkin' in time](https://youtu.be/Xi349ysBaW8) — the boyz)

The weather is nice, maybe too nice for them to spend inside the mall, but that was the plan all along. The mall itself is huge, one of the newest buildings in the neighborhood, and all four of them agree it sells the best movie theater popcorn they’ve ever tasted. So they buy three bowls of it, three sodas and one sparkling water, and enjoy an early session. So early indeed that they’re the only ones inside the theater.

“All the better,” Jaehyun says as they get comfortable. He puts his feet up on the seat in front of him. “No annoying assholes to distract us from the movie.”

Chanhee gives him a funny look, but he’s more interested in silencing his phone than arguing. 

It’s Sunwoo who says, “I mean, unless you’re the annoying asshole this time.”

“I could never. I respect the art,” Jaehyun says solemnly, making them laugh. He smiles, happy with the reaction. 

Younghoon throws an arm around Chanhee’s shoulder, and Chanhee makes himself comfortable. Younghoon is wearing an oversized hoodie that looks soft enough to make Chanhee snuggle closer in his chair, finally pocketing his phone. “I’m surprised there aren’t any kids, though? I don’t remember the last time I saw an animation with no kids screaming and crying around me.”

“Didn’t we watch 'Frozen 2' at the dorm like… last month?” Jaehyun asks, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn.

“We did. My point still stands.”

Sunwoo nods, mouth also stuffed full of popcorn. “Eric _did_ cry.”

“When? Why wasn’t I there?” Younghoon asks, looking from Jaehyun to Sunwoo over Chanhee’s head. 

“You were sleeping,” Chanhee says, tapping his arm. “Shh, the trailers are starting.”

The movie is a sweet little thing that, of course, includes some tear-jerking plots that would certainly fly over any kid’s head but that hit close to home to anyone older than 18. The four of them are mostly quiet—Younghoon and Chanhee whisper questions about the plot to each other, and Jaehyun asks a couple of his own questions out loud while Sunwoo ignores him—and when the credits finally roll, they don’t feel like standing up just yet. 

“That was a ride,” Jaehyun offers. He’s slurping noisily on the straw of his now mostly-gone soda. 

“The style was so pretty,” Younghoon says. “Wasn’t it? It wasn’t trying to be realistic, I think that’s what made it so pretty. The flashback scenes…”

“Sunwoo almost cried at those,” Jaehyun points to him at his side. 

Sunwoo looks unfazed. “They were emotional scenes, hyung.”

“Right?” Younghoon looks back at the screen. “I liked it. A lot, actually. What are you doing?”

He asks that to Chanhee, who’s frowning at his phone. 

“I asked Changmin about his charger before the movie started and he still hasn’t answered?” He locks the screen and pockets the phone again. “I’m just gonna buy him whatever, he probably doesn’t care about the color anyway. Should we go? There isn’t any after credits scene, right?”

“Probably not. Not every studio can be Marvel,” Jaehyun stands up after him, picking up their empty popcorn bowls. The other two do too, and they file out of the room still discussing the movie, relaxed in the knowledge that they don’t have to be back at the dorm until late afternoon. 

The movie started at 9:30am, so when Sunwoo looks at his phone, he isn’t surprised to see it’s 11:47am. He’s glad they filled up on popcorn, because lunch seems too far away right now. He’s still looking at his phone when he walks right into Chanhee, who has stopped in his tracks.

“Where’s everyone?” Chanhee asks. 

They all look up and around at his question. The cinema is empty, even the ticket booths. It’s a Wednesday morning, so while they weren’t expecting it to be crowded, it looks a little _too_ empty. Deserted, Sunwoo’s brain supplies. The word for it is deserted. 

“Lunch break?” Younghoon offers. 

“Everyone just went out for lunch at once?” Chanhee sounds incredulous. He walks a bit farther out, until he crosses the threshold between the movie theater and the open space of the mall. He looks back at the other three. “I don’t see anyone?”

Younghoon is the first to join him, looking around too. “This is weird,” he says, in a wondering, distracted voice. He walks a couple of steps over to the cafe that’s just next to the movie theater. He shakes his head, looking back at the others.

The ambient music is still playing softly over the hidden speakers around them, taking over the silence when they don’t say anything. Sunwoo walks out, too, in the other direction—the ice cream place is empty, and so is the music store right next to it. Not closed, just… empty. 

“This is weird as fuck.” His voice carries over loudly, too loud. It’s just then that they notice how quiet the mall is, aside from the soft music.

“We should head out,” Jaehyun says, looking around apprehensively. “Maybe it’s a fire drill, or something.”

“I was in the mall once when the lights went out. They had to pry the automatic doors open to let us out,” Younghoon offers, unhelpfully.

“No, seriously. We should head out,” Jaehyun repeats himself, taking two confident steps towards the way they came when they arrived. “Maybe we didn’t hear the fire alarm go off, or something.”

“Could be a gas leak too,” Sunwoo says. He walks slowly back to the group.

“What if it’s a shooter?” Chanhee holds a hand up to his mouth, suddenly scared. “Wait, this could be bad. Maybe we should head back inside.”

“To the theater?” Jaehyun asks, confused. 

“Yes! Maybe it’s an active shooter situation. We’d be safer there than here, out in the open.”

He looks ready to bolt back to the theater, but Jaehyun is frowning and shaking his head. “No, that doesn’t—That doesn’t happen here, that’s not a thing.”

“What if it does, though? Happen.” Younghoon widens his eyes, looking from one to the other. “What if it’s a hostage situation?”

“Do you hear anything? How would that be happening in complete silence?”

“They might be outside,” Sunwoo says. He starts walking over to the exit, a handful of stores away, around the corner from where they are. Chanhee calls him, but he says over his shoulder, “I’m just gonna take a look. Don’t worry.”

Truth is, he _is_ worried. Whether it’s fire or something worse, Sunwoo feels cold, anxiety starting to get to him. He tries to calm himself down, because there’s no need to worry, really—for all he knows, they just happened to walk out of the theater at a weird moment. Maybe there’s someone famous busking outside. Maybe it’s some sort of weird prank being pulled on them. Still, he listens carefully as he takes step after step towards the huge electronics store beside the exit. All the stores he walked by so far are empty. It sends a shiver down his spine that he does his best to ignore.

As he reaches the corner, he stops and peeks around. Sure enough, the glass doors of the exit are there, but there is no one. Not inside the mall, not outside of it, as far as he can tell. 

He turns back around to the group and shrugs with both of his hands up. 

“Nothing?” Jaehyun calls out. 

“Nothing,” Sunwoo reports back. 

Chanhee says something that he can’t hear, but Jaehyun walks over anyway. Chanhee and Younghoon follow him, Chanhee looking over his shoulder anxiously.

“It must be a fire drill,” Jaehyun says as he reaches Sunwoo, patting his shoulder. He turns the corner and starts walking over to the exit. Sunwoo exchanges a glance with Chanhee when they reach him—they seem to agree that something isn’t right, but they’re not sounding the alarm just yet. Be it unwillingness to scare the other two, or just an unwillingness to fight with Jaehyun and his fire drill theory, they’re not saying anything. They follow Jaehyun to the exit, watch as the automatic doors open as they should for them, and walk out into the warm spring day.

The parking lot is empty.

Well, not really. There are plenty of cars parked there, but there’s not a single person out. The entrance they just used is a side one, not the main entrance to the mall, which stands to their left, within view—there is no one there either. They can see outside the perimeter of the mall, and the streets surrounding it. Everything is quiet. There are no cars on the streets. The two bus stops in their line of sight are empty.

“What the fuck?” Jaehyun whispers to no one in particular.

Chanhee walks further out, turning around to look at the mall, like he’s looking for a sign, anything to explain why everyone simply left. There isn’t one. The mall stands tall and seemingly unscathed. There’s no smoke, no fire, no nothing. 

“Did we—?” Younghoon pulls out his phone before he can finish his question. He unlocks the screen, types something, scrolls down what looks like the Google search page. He opens Naver next. Sunwoo is watching over his shoulder, a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “There’s nothing? No news?”

“What?” Sunwoo asks.

“I thought we might’ve missed a bomb alert, or something…”

“Bomb?” Chanhee and Jaehyun ask at the same time. Jaehyun adds, “What do you mean, _bomb_?”

“Like, a war. Maybe everyone went into shelter and stuff? But there’s nothing on the news...”

There’s a pause as they look at each other, the words falling heavy on their ears. 

“It can’t be—“

“We should go,” Chanhee cuts Jaehyun off. “We can discuss what it can or can’t be later, far from here. We should head back home, now.” 

“Agree,” Sunwoo says. “Come on.”

He heads towards their car first. It’s only “their” car insofar as it is the car they drove to the mall, as it’s actually a company car, but it’s as inconspicuous of a ride as they’d ever get. Jaehyun has the keys, and he unlocks it as soon as they’re close enough to see it. Chanhee runs to the passenger seat, and Jaehyun seems to have picked up on the urgency, because he runs to the driver’s seat as well. Sunwoo and Younghoon follow suit, climbing into the back seat as Jaehyun turns the ignition on.

“All right,” Jaehyun says, mostly to himself. “All right, let’s go.”

They drive out of the parking lot as usual—the system lets them out without a hitch when Jaehyun swipes the parking lot card, the friendly voice of the machine wishing them a safe journey eerily loud to their ears. Chanhee takes his phone to his ear just as they reach the street and Younghoon says: “The cars…”

They were wrong in thinking there were no cars in the streets. There are, and they can see that now; but they are frozen in place, unmoving. Empty, like whoever was driving them just stopped where they were, turned off the engine and walked off. There are no open doors, like in most post-apocalyptic movies where people leave their cars behind with open doors. These cars could be parked, if it wasn’t for the fact that they are in the middle of the street for no clear reason. 

“If this is a prank,” Sunwoo says loudly, as if to be heard by any possible hidden cameras. “It’s fucked up. I can curse the entire time and render the footage useless if I have to. Just please, fucking stop.” 

“I don’t think this is a prank…” Younghoon is watching the cars they’re passing by, mouth open in awe. “This is _so weird._ ”

“Everything is empty,” Jaehyun points out. He’s driving carefully, avoiding the cars on their way, but he’s looking at the buildings too. His voice is barely more than a whisper. “Everything. The restaurants. The stores. Look at that! The food carts are just… there. There’s no one looking after them.”

They watch in silence as everything around them looks mostly the same but so terrifyingly different. There is not a single soul out; it doesn’t look like a ghost town because it’s still their town, it’s still the Seoul they know, but it’s like someone paused a game and removed all of the characters. It feels weird. It feels wrong.

“Changmin isn’t answering his phone,” Chanhee says. His voice shakes at the last word. “He isn’t answering, manager Cho isn’t answering… Hyung, try calling him, see if he picks it up.” 

Younghoon pulls out his phone and brings it up to his ear after tapping the screen a couple of times. He meets Chanhee’s eyes in the visor mirror, then shakes his head.

“Try Juyeon. He always picks up his phone,” Jaehyun says, as if he needs to explain that to them. 

Younghoon brings his phone to his ear again. Before he can give an answer, Sunwoo pulls out his phone as well, typing quickly. 

“Juyeon didn’t pick up either,” Younghoon says. 

“No one is answering on Kakao,” Sunwoo announces. He brushes his face, worry starting to gnaw at him from inside out, before he picks up his phone again to try one more time. He messages all of his most recent chats, including the group chats, and messages his mother too for good measure.

“How the fuck can no one pick up their phones?” Chanhee brings his phone to his ear again.

“Maybe they really are sheltering,” Jaehyun says. He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, risking a glance at the clear sky above them. “Maybe the signal isn’t that good wherever the hell they’re hiding.”

No one answers Sunwoo’s messages. What’s worse, they don’t even read it—his Kakao messages go unread, even the one to his mother. He has a sudden urge to scream, but quiets it down enough that when he speaks, his voice is perfectly level, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?” Jaehyun asks.

“They’re not in shelters. We’re not at war,” Sunwoo says. He doesn’t know how he’s so sure, but he is. “This is something else.”

“Like what?” Chanhee is scrolling furiously on his phone. “There’s literally nothing on the news. Like, literally. There are no new articles about anything. The last one on Naver was posted 2 hours ago and it’s about sports. On Daum it’s just something about economy. Two hours ago too. There are no trending searches either.” 

“So the internet is down?” Younghoon asks.

“That could be it,” Chanhee says. “Maybe the calls aren’t going through, either. I’m gonna call you.”

Younghoon’s ringtone—V’s “Scenery”—plays softly at first, then louder when Younghoon manually turns the volume up so everyone can hear it ringing. 

“So the calls _are_ going through,” Chanhee corrects himself, sounding even more worried than he was a minute ago.

“I’ll try my brother in London,” Younghoon says, bringing his phone to his ear while biting on his thumb. 

Sunwoo is still staring at his Kakao, wishing with every fiber of his being that someone, _anyone_ will answer him. No one does.

“Twitter isn’t loading,” Chanhee says. He lets out a laugh that’s more despair than real mirth. “It just isn’t. Either that or no one is tweeting. Our last mention was 2 hours ago.”

“The internet is down,” Jaehyun says with so much conviction it almost convinces them. “There’s no point in testing it out with every single app, you’re just gonna worry yourself sick. So don’t.”

He isn’t being forceful. There’s a gentleness to his voice that Sunwoo recognizes from the more than a few times Jaehyun acted like an older brother to him and to others, a comforting tone that’s different from his usual brashness. It works—Chanhee puts his phone down between his thighs and crosses his arms, looking out of the window. 

“My brother isn’t answering either,” Younghoon says, staring at his phone in disbelief. “It’s the middle of the night there, but still…”

They’re in silence as Jaehyun drives closer to their dorm, the streets as empty as they were when they first left the mall. They see the company building first, and Sunwoo almost suggests they stop there, but Jaehyun drives a couple of blocks further and parks in front of their building. The silence is deafening when he turns the engine off. 

“Let’s not use the elevator,” Jaehyun says, climbing out of the car first.

“Why not?” 

“Because if the internet is down maybe electricity could follow,” he explains. 

No one argues with that. They file into the building in silence, taking the stairs to the 7th floor. It’s a lot of steps, and they’re slightly out of breath when they get to their door. When Jaehyun presses the pad of his thumb to the digital lock, it opens with a beep, same as usual. They seem to be holding their breaths as they walk into the apartment, not bothering to take off their shoes at the foyer for what is probably the first time since they moved in together.

“Guys? Anyone home?” Sunwoo calls out. No one answers. He checks the kitchen as the others walk further in, and he can hear Chanhee and Jaehyun calling the other members’ names, knocking on doors. No one answers.

“They’re not here,” Younghoon voices what they’re all thinking as they meet each other again in the living room.

“We imagined that would be the case,” Jaehyun says. He looks from Younghoon to Sunwoo; Chanhee has sat on the couch, head in his hands. “But if they’re sheltering some place, what would that place be?”

“The subway,” Sunwoo suggests. “Probably. Gangnam Station.”

“Changmin wouldn’t have left us behind,” Chanhee says from the couch in a low voice. He raises his head and repeats it, louder: “Changmin wouldn’t have just left us. He would’ve tried to contact us.”

“Maybe he didn’t have time—“

“No.” Chanhee shakes his head. “No, he would find a way. Something’s wrong.”

He meets Sunwoo’s eyes again, like at the mall. The bad feeling in Sunwoo’s gut feels justified when he meets Chanhee’s eyes and sees the same fear there, the same certainty that something is just not right.

“Maybe they left their phones here,” Jaehyun says, pulling his own phone out of his pocket and calling someone. He walks into the rooms again, probably trying to listen for ringtones. He comes back a moment later, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe not,” he concedes.

In the time he was gone, Younghoon has taken his phone and angled it towards his face, snapping a couple of pictures of his smiling face. 

“Are you… taking a selfie?” Sunwoo asks. 

“Yes,” Younghoon is focused on his phone, typing something and looking up at the others. “I posted on Twitter. See if you can see my tweet.”

The three of them oblige, then collectively agree that yes, Younghoon’s tweet is visible, and so is his selfie.

“If the internet is down, how can I tweet?” 

They don’t have an answer for that. Chanhee says, “I can see it from another account too.”

“No one is retweeting it, or liking it, or replying to it either…” Younghoon says.

Sunwoo brings his hands to his face. He gives his back to the others, trying to keep himself from screaming—or crying, he doesn’t know. This isn’t right.

With an idea, Sunwoo turns to the TV. He picks up the remote and turns it on. It’s on a sports channel, a rerun of a baseball game. He flips through the channels. Variety show, music video, commercial break, cooking show, commercial break—

He stops, swallowing dry. 

“Oh, that’s fucked up,” Jaehyun says from somewhere on his left.

They’re staring at an empty studio. The camera is panned to show the counter where, as far as Sunwoo knows, usually two news anchors sit, side by side. There’s no one there now. The banner on the lower half of the screen reads “MIDTERM ELECTIONS: PREVIEWS SHOW FAVORABLE TURNOUT AMONG 19-29 POPULATION”. They watch absolutely nothing happen for almost two whole minutes before Sunwoo switches channels again. The local news has the same weird, empty studio situation going, except that this one shows a weather forecast screen with no one there to explain it. The channels with recorded broadcasts seem to be fine, it’s the live ones that show nothing but empty studios. A couple of channels seem to have gone off the air entirely. Sunwoo turns the TV off. Their shadows look back at them from the dark screen. 

“We should check Gangnam Station. Just in case,” Jaehyun says after a moment. He walks over to the door again. He doesn’t explain what he means by _just in case_ , and no one asks him.

They walk in silence to the subway station. It’s one block away, and Sunwoo could walk there with his eyes closed with how well he knows the way, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at the empty stores, the gym across from their building that’s always bustling with people 24/7 and is now empty like he has never seen it before. The world seems awfully quiet, but he’s not sure if it’s just the lack of traffic or if it’s something else. He looks at his friends. Chanhee has his arms crossed, as if hugging himself, looking around with focused, searching eyes. Younghoon is frowning, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, mostly staring at the ground. Jaehyun is walking fast, looking at the buildings around them as if hoping that at any second now someone will walk out of one, worry written all over his face.

Sunwoo checks his phone one more time. His Kakao messages are still unread. 

He locks the screen again and tries to swallow down the panic rising in his throat like bile.

Gangnam Station looks like it always has. Bigger, even. They take the last few steps with anticipation, but there’s no one there to greet them. Jaehyun stops in place, his mouth a thin line of worry, while Chanhee walks farther in, looking around. 

“Could they be further inside?” Younghoon asks. His voice sounds graver than usual. “Like, closer to the tunnels, past the turnstiles?”

“I think so,” Chanhee says. “There’s no one here.”

“Let’s head inside,” Sunwoo suggests, taking the lead and hopping over a turnstile. He looks back when he hears a beep. 

“What?” Jaehyun shrugs when he catches Sunwoo’s eyes, pocketing his metrocard. “I have plenty of credits.”

“Doesn’t it kinda feel like that movie?” Younghoon asks as they walk further into the station, past convenience stores and digital ads. There’s a relay dance playing in one of the monitors, a major girl group they’ve met at music shows more than once. 

“Which one?”

He looks at Jaehyun. “The one where they can’t speak, and the dad gets eaten towards the end…?”

“‘A Quiet Place’?” 

“Yeah.”

“I guess,” Jaehyun is looking paler by the second. “I mean, it _is_ quiet…”

“Where did all the people go, though? In the movie,” Younghoon continues. “It’s just them, where’s everybody else?”

“They’re dead,” Sunwoo says, simply. “The monsters ate everyone.” 

“Did _you_ watch it?” 

He nods.

“With who?” Chanhee asks, looking at him curiously. “You wouldn’t watch it by yourself.” 

Sunwoo hesitates only for a second. “Hyunjoon and Haknyeon.”

Younghoon asks something else about the movie, but Sunwoo isn’t listening. They’re getting to the end of the walkway, almost reaching the end of the tunnel. He unlocks his phone, types in a number he knows by memory. He brings the phone to his ear. It rings, and rings, and rings. When he brings it down again, he stares at Hyunjoon’s number, unsaved on his new phone, no contact picture assigned to him yet—maybe ever again. He doesn’t know why he does it. They know by now that calling is futile, no one is picking up their phones, but something makes him do it. Call it despair, or wishful thinking. They are one and the same anyway, in Sunwoo’s opinion. His heart clenches painfully.

“No one. There’s no one here,” Jaehyun says. He has reached the far end of the walkway first, and now he turns back to the others, white as chalk. “Oh, I’m gonna be sick.”

Sunwoo walks to him, grabbing one of his arms and helping him sit down at a bench. He rubs soothing circles on Jaehyun’s back as Chanhee looks into the tunnel where the cars are supposed to come through. Younghoon walks back to the doors lined up against the wall, trying to open them. One doesn’t, but when he tries the next one, it opens into a small office, empty like everything else.

“Are we alone?” Jaehyun asks. He sounds sick, voice thin and meek, but the question hangs heavy in the air. “How can we be alone?”

“We can’t,” Chanhee says. He walks back towards them. He’s hugging himself again, which is the only sign of how rattled he is. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense. It just is,” Sunwoo says. Jaehyun glares at him.

“Of course it has to make sense. People don’t just vanish, that’s not—“ He stops, swallows heavily and makes a face, like he just stopped himself from puking. “There’s gotta be an explanation.”

“Maybe we’re dreaming,” Younghoon says.

“The four of us having the same vivid dream?” Jaehyun deadpans. 

“Maybe we died,” Chanhee counters, then raises his hands in surrender when three pairs of eyes turn to him. “I don’t know! Maybe this is some sort of limbo.”

“Maybe it’s hell,” Sunwoo says. 

They don’t argue with that. It’s starting to feel a lot like hell.

“Either that or we’ve lost it. Maybe _I’ve_ lost it,” Chanhee says. He‘s staring at nothing in particular, eyes wide. “Maybe I just went crazy.”

“You think this is all inside your head?” Sunwoo asks. 

“Just because it’s happening inside your head doesn’t mean it’s not real,” Younghoon mutters softly.

“Did you just quote Harry fucking Potter?” Jaehyun lifts his head to ask, squinting at him.

“It’s a good quote.” 

“What are you, 12?” Jaehyun gestures wildly, arms flailing to encompass the empty station. “We’re fucked, dude. Do you even understand that, or do you need me to draw it for you?” 

“I do understand that, Jaehyun,” Younghoon says, voice rising too, deeper than Jaehyun’s by a mile, and much scarier echoing off the walls of the station. “And in case you didn’t know, being an asshole isn’t gonna help either, so you might wanna tone it down.”

They stare each other down until Jaehyun hangs his head low, sighing. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Younghoonie. I’m not in my right mind.”

“None of us are,” Chanhee says. He squeezes Younghoon’s elbow, giving him a look. Younghoon just turns around and leans down to hide his face on Chanhee’s shoulder. Chanhee hugs him back, hand rubbing his back soothingly.

For the third time that day, Chanhee and Sunwoo look at each other. Sunwoo’s urge to cry is hitting a crescendo, but he’s able to keep it down. He’s always able to keep it down. Chanhee watches his face, then gets Younghoon to sit with him on the bench next to Sunwoo.

“It just is,” Chanhee repeats. 

Sunwoo nods. 

“Do you think they’re gonna be back? Or are they just… gone?”

“I don’t know,” Sunwoo stares at his nails. He feels tired all of a sudden. “I hope they come back.”

There’s a moment of silence as they try to process this reality. The idea of everyone just... gone. Every single person they know, and don’t. It feels too impossible, too absurd. Sunwoo rubs at his eyes, tiredly.

Jaehyun stands up, “I’m going to the bathroom. I can’t keep it down, I’m gonna be sick.”

He walks off, and Sunwoo follows him after a second. The nearest restroom is close by, and Sunwoo offers to go in and help, but Jaehyun waves him off, locking himself in a stall. Sunwoo waits by the sink as Jaehyun throws up what sounds like the entirety of the contents of his stomach.

When he opens the stall again, he looks sickly pale. He walks over to the sink to wash his face. Sunwoo steps to the side to give him space.

“I just can’t stop thinking about my parents, and my sister.” Jaehyun says, water dripping down his chin. “I almost called them, but got scared, because what if they don’t answer? What if, then? Where are they?”

“I don’t know, hyung.” Sunwoo turns to look in the mirror, too, meeting Jaehyun’s eyes there. He has never seen him that lost. As insecure as Jaehyun can be sometimes, he has always tried his best to be there for the others. He always puts on a brave face and a kind smile when the members need it. Sunwoo understands that, and he knows Jaehyun sees that in him, too, which is probably why he’s being so upfront, so honest. “I wish I had something else to say other than ‘I don’t know’,” Sunwoo adds. 

Jaehyun chuckles, splashing some more water on his face before he draws his hands back and lets the faucet turn itself off. “I know. It’s ok. I’m sorry I’m all over the place like this.” He dries his face off with a paper towel. “I wasn’t ready to just… lose people like this. My family. If I lost them. God, this is weird.”

“It is. But wherever they are, they must be together, right?” Sunwoo isn’t sure if he believes that himself, but it doesn’t hurt to put the idea out there. Especially with Jaehyun so scared as he is. Any comfort is better than no comfort right now. “They have each other. They’ll be fine.” 

“That’s true. I _hope_ that’s true, anyway,” Jaehyun says. 

“Come here,” Sunwoo brings Jaehyun closer for a hug. Jaehyun readily accepts it, sighing against the cotton of Sunwoo’s sweatshirt. He sags against him, all tension and stress. Sunwoo holds him for a moment, wondering briefly just how it got to this. How did their day go from normal to frightening in such a short time? “Better?” Sunwoo asks into his hair, leaving a kiss there for good measure.

Jaehyun chuckles, more like his usual self, as he lets go of Sunwoo. “As much as possible, I think. Thanks.”

“We should head back before they think we vanished too,” Sunwoo says, walking to the door and holding it open for Jaehyun.

They find Younghoon and Chanhee just a few benches over, waiting for them. Younghoon meets them halfway and hands Jaehyun a Gatorade. It’s a peace offering, one that Jaehyun acknowledges with a grateful smile. “Thanks. And I’m sorry again.”

“I’m sorry too,” Younghoon says. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit. But better than ten minutes ago, so. Small mercies.”

“Where did you get that?” Sunwoo asks, then follows Chanhee’s finger when he points to a row of vending machines a few feet away.

“Thank god for machines?” Chanhee tries to joke, but it falls flat. He clears his throat. “I was checking, there’s nothing new on the internet. Anywhere, not just here. The livestreams on YouTube are exactly as the news channels, just cameras filming nothing and no one.”

“So it’s not that the internet is down,” Sunwoo completes the thought, voicing what they already know deep down. “There’s just no one using the internet.”

Jaehyun inhales deeply, and for a moment Sunwoo thinks he might throw up again, but he just exhales and says, “Let’s sit down and think. Decide what to do next.”

The empty station seems to stare back at them as they sit on the benches again. Sunwoo takes the floor this time, facing the others. Younghoon sees him sitting on the floor and follows suit, but positioning himself between Chanhee’s knees instead, back against the bench, resting his head on his thigh. Jaehyun opens his Gatorade to take a sip.

They don’t say anything for a while. Even though the idea was to sit down and decide on their next move, no one seems to have any clue as to what that next move should be. Jaehyun is a little less pale, which is good, but other than that, they look as desolate as they feel.

“Should we head back to the dorm?” Sunwoo wonders out loud. 

“I don’t see the point,” Chanhee says. “I think we’re as safe here as we could possibly be.”

“It’s a little creepy, though,” Younghoon whispers against the fabric of Chanhee’s jeans. 

“What? The subway?”

Younghoon nods. 

“You’ve seen too much seinen anime, hyung,” Sunwoo says.

“I agree with Chanhee,” Jaehyun puts his half-finished Gatorade aside. “I’d rather be here than on the 7th floor if there’s another glitch in the matrix.”

“What if—“ Chanhee starts then stops. 

“What?” Sunwoo prompts. 

“What if that’s what it is? What if we’re like, in a different dimension? A parallel one?”

Jaehyun cocks his head. “The fact that I’m not laughing at that suggestion just tells you how weird this whole thing is. I mean, maybe? But why? Why us?”

“I dunno,” Chanhee is staring into nothing again, lost in thought. He starts running his fingers through Younghoon’s hair, absentmindedly.

“Maybe it’s both,” Sunwoo suggests. The three of them look at him. “Like, both a limbo, and an alternate dimension. Maybe we just got stuck in between.” 

“Do you think maybe there’s a reason it’s the four of us?” Younghoon asks.

“I’m not sure what the four of us have in common,” Jaehyun says slowly after they consider it for a moment. “Aside from, you know. Killer looks. We’re clearly the visuals in the group. Juyeon has got nothing on the two of you.” 

They crack genuine smiles for the first time since the mall. Sunwoo kicks Jaehyun’s foot playfully. “Shut up.”

“No, but really… I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either,” Younghoon says. 

Chanhee and Sunwoo stay silent. He doesn’t know what is going through Chanhee’s mind, but Sunwoo can think of a few hangups in his own life. Nothing that could alter the fabric of space and time, but there’s very little he can think of right now that’s not related to the people in his life—the people he might’ve just lost, maybe forever, for all he knows. He has been doing a good job of not dwelling too much on it until now, but it’s just a can of worms waiting to be opened at this point.

“Changmin would’ve warned us if he had the chance,” Chanhee says, voice low. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “Which means he either didn’t have any kind of warning, or we were the ones who were pulled away to a different plane or whatever the hell this is.”

“He’s gonna be worried when we don’t come back,” Younghoon says. “No. Angry first, then worried. We had practice today, right?”

“Ah, yeah. We had. He’s gonna be pissed,” Chanhee agrees. “Not that there’s much we can do about it now.”

“I miss him,” Younghoon says. It’s a left turn of sorts, and his voice is so soft, face half mashed against Chanhee’s thigh, that they almost don’t hear him. Only almost.

Chanhee blinks at the overhead lights, and Sunwoo is polite enough to look down at his own feet, suddenly very interested in his shoelaces. He looks up again when Chanhee says in a remarkably steady voice, “I’m glad he’s not here, though.”

Younghoon looks up at him, twisting his neck up to do it. “Really?”

“Of course. He doesn’t deserve to have this happen to him. None of you do, actually.”

“I feel like he’d know what to do, though,” Younghoon leans against his leg again. 

Sunwoo is still hung up on Chanhee’s words. “None of _us_ deserves to be here, hyung. You don’t deserve it either.”

Surprisingly, Chanhee just shrugs. “I have no idea what I deserve, honestly.”

“Not this,” Jaehyun interjects first, even though all three of them opened their mouths to speak. “You deserve much better than to be lost in limbo. What the fuck?”

“I’m just saying!” Chanhee argues back. “I’m not one to judge what I deserve or not, that’s up to God. Maybe he thought I’d fucked up enough for one lifetime. But that doesn’t explain why _you three_ are here, though.”

Jaehyun is staring at him with a frown. “That makes no fucking sense.”

“That’s what I said!”

“No, you thinking God would punish you? Punish you for what? Dyeing your hair pink one too many times?”

“I’m sure he could find something,” Chanhee says, which is a non-explanation, but he doesn’t offer anything else. 

Jaehyun looks from him to Sunwoo and back at him. “I’m sorry, are you Catholic? Is this Catholic guilt at work, or?”

“I’m Presbyterian, thanks for noticing.”

Younghoon has turned around in the meantime, staring up at Chanhee. “Why would you think you deserve this?”

“I never said that.” 

“Were you thinking it?”

Chanhee hesitates, mouth opening and closing for a good three seconds before he settles on, “You’re all making it a much bigger deal than it needs to be. I just said, like. I’m not perfect.”

“No one is, though,” Sunwoo observes. Younghoon nods, his hair bouncing with how emphatically he does it.

“I know that,” Chanhee says quietly. He’s not trying to argue.

“You’re perfect to me, though,” Younghoon says. Again, it’s a bit of a left turn, and it leaves them speechless for a moment, especially Chanhee, who looks like he doesn’t know what to say to that. “Changmin would agree.”

“He would,” Jaehyun says even quieter, mostly to himself. He clears his throat when it feels like neither Chanhee nor Younghoon will say anything. “Sorry, can I ask a stupid and probably very invasive question? Since we’re dead now, or whatever.”

“We’re not dead,” Younghoon says, but doesn’t offer any follow-up argument or explanation. “What question?”

“Are you guys…” Jaehyun starts, then makes a face, like he regrets opening his mouth already. “Sorry, this is none of my business. I’m so sorry. But also, are you guys a thing? Like, are you together? I’ve always wondered.”

Chanhee looks like he’s trying not to laugh. He looks at Younghoon. “Do you mind?”

Younghoon shrugs. “Never did.” 

“Yes,” Chanhee says to Jaehyun. “It’s kinda cute how you were the last to notice.”

“I noticed things, I just didn’t know what to think. Like… How does it even work?”

Chanhee’s eyebrows shoot up behind his fringe. Sunwoo tries so hard not to laugh, he chokes on his own saliva. 

“Gay sex, Lee Jaehyun? Are you asking me how gay sex works?”

“No!” Jaehyun widens his eyes. “No, Jesus, no. I meant like—Jesus, how did you get sex from that? I meant like, how does it—You know what? Nevermind.”

“No, please,” Sunwoo intercedes. “I’m so entertained, please ask your question.”

“I meant like,” Jaehyun’s ears are beet red as he tries to find the right words. “How does it work, being together when you live and work together? You’re together all the time. _We_ ’re together all the time. Doesn’t it get, you know. Stuffy? Too much?”

“Not really?” Chanhee thinks for a second, then looks down at Younghoon. “Does it?”

“We’re not together all the time,” Younghoon says. “We’re barely ever together, if you think about it. Just the three of us.”

“Oh. Three.” Jaehyun looks from one to the other. “Changmin?”

Chanhee smiles. “Sherlock Holmes has got nothing on you.”

Jaehyun doesn’t let the teasing get to him. He seems to be on a roll, now that he’s thoroughly embarrassed himself. He turns his body so he’s facing Chanhee and Younghoon. “How did you know?” He asks instead.

“Know what?”

“That you liked each other.” 

“You’ve never been in love?” Chanhee asks.

“I honestly don’t know,” Jaehyun says, and he sounds sincere. “Also, wow. Love. Big words there.”

“There’s too much at stake not to be forthright about it,” Chanhee explains.

There’s a moment of silence as Jaehyun seems to digest that. Sunwoo is the one who picks it up, saying, “How did you know, though?”

Chanhee gives him a look that Sunwoo can’t quite interpret before he looks down at Younghoon, brushing his fringe out of his face with as much care as one could possibly put in a gesture. “Not sure… I just knew I liked spending time with them. I liked Younghoon’s stupid laugh. The way he could make me laugh in turn.” 

Younghoon smiles up at him, “It’s my special talent.” 

“How do you set that apart from a friendship, though?” Jaehyun asks.

“I don’t think there’s much of a difference,” Chanhee says. “We were friends first. We _are_ friends first.”

“Maybe if you want to kiss them, it’s more than a friendship,” Younghoon says. 

“I’ve kissed friends before, that doesn’t cut it either,” Chanhee thinks for a second. “It’s just different. When you want to be with someone, and it’s not just lust, it’s… I don’t know how to explain it, to be honest.”

Younghoon, who has been watching Jaehyun’s face, smirks. “Why are you asking all this?”

“To avoid thinking about how I’m never gonna see my family again?” Jaehyun says, then closes his eyes. “Sorry. Way to ruin the mood. Forget I said that. I don’t know why I’m asking all this.”

“When you said you were not sure you had ever been in love...” Sunwoo starts, then pauses, mostly for effect. “What makes you think you might have been?”

“I’ve dated,” Jaehyun shrugs. “Had two girlfriends in highschool. Well, one in middle school and then we broke up in the first year of highschool, then another one in the third year of highschool. I liked them. But I don’t know if I was in love or if it was just like, infatuation. Puppy love, you know?”

“No one since?” Sunwoo presses.

Jaehyun stutters for a second, “I don’t—I’m not sure.”

“So that’s where the uncertainty is,” Younghoon says. 

“I don’t know! I don’t think it should—It’s complicated.”

Chanhee gasps. “It’s a guy! Isn’t it?”

“Is that what’s complicated?” Younghoon gasps too. “You’re having an identity crisis!”

Jaehyun looks ready to argue, but he deflates when he meets their eyes, shoulders hunching in defeat. “Maybe.”

“Oh my God, _who?_ ” Chanhee asks, then covers his own mouth. “Sorry. That shouldn’t be the first question. Lemme start over. You never questioned yourself before?”

“No. I mean. I may have thought about kissing a guy or two before, but I thought that was just, I don’t know, hormones. I thought I just wanted to kiss everything that moved because I was 16 and horny. I was pretty sure I was straight.” He stops, making a face. “Did I just use past tense?”

“You did, hyung,” Sunwoo says. “To be fair, everything is past tense now.”

“True,” Jaehyun picks up his Gatorade to do a silent _cheers to that_ , then takes a sip from it. “I don’t know why I’m worked up over it. Even if I did have feelings, they’re not mutual, so.”

“You can’t know that,” Younghoon says.

“Oh, I can,” Jaehyun laughs. “It’s not mutual, 100%. Guaranteed. I may not be straight, but he is. Was. Whatever.”

“If you’re not straight then honestly, anyone can be not straight,” Chanhee shoots back. “Sorry, you’re just very… Hetero-passing.”

“I don’t know if I should be glad or offended.”

“Offended,” Younghoon and Sunwoo say, not at the same time but close enough to make Jaehyun laugh. 

“Ouch, then. But yeah, anyway. I was just curious because I’ve been wondering for a while now if I have somehow crossed an invisible line between friendship and something more. I don’t know where the line is, is the thing. I just like him.” He pauses, looking down at his hands, then adds, “A lot, actually. I like him a lot. God, it feels weird saying it out loud like this.”

“I think you just answered your own questions,” Chanhee says.

“Did I, though? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just been so long since I’ve had a relationship I’m latching onto the closest person around m—” He stops himself, eyes widening, but it’s too late. 

“Closest person? It’s someone in the group?” Chanhee asks.

Younghoon sits up straight. “It’s not that friend of yours, is it? The one with all the muscles?”

“What? No,” Jaehyun scoffs at Younghoon. 

“So it _is_ someone in the group,” Chanhee surmises. When Jaehyun doesn’t contradict him, Chanhee adds, surprised, “Wait, seriously? Who?”

“It’s obviously Jacob hyung,” Sunwoo says. He stretches his legs in front of him, watching with amusement as Chanhee’s and Jaehyun’s mouths fall open identically yet for different reasons. They speak at the same time:

“What do you mean, _‘obviously’_?

“ _Bae Jacob_?”

“It’s not that obvious,” Sunwoo reassures him. “Unless you’ve been paying attention. Which Chanhee hyung obviously hasn’t.”

“You do look a little like an idiot when you’re looking at him,” Younghoon offers, helpfully.

A phone chimes in the middle of their conversation, which makes them stop immediately. It’s Sunwoo’s phone, he realizes, picking it up from where he had left it on the ground next to him. The other three are staring, sobered up and reminded of where they are, and why. Bile rises up Sunwoo’s throat with how quickly fear overcomes him again, like it had never left in the first place. He unlocks his screen.

“It’s a reminder,” he announces, voice flat. He turns the phone around so they can see. “I have it set for 12:45. Sorry.”

They don’t say it, but they all feel the disappointment rolling in waves from each one of them. He’s about to clear his lockscreen notifications when Jaehyun extends his hand. “Wait, lemme see that again?”

Sunwoo turns his phone around. Jaehyun takes it from his hand, reading the notification, then looks up at him. 

“You’re taking prescribed meds?”

“Ah. Yeah. Just something for anxiety, it’s nothing.”

Jaehyun looks from him to the others. “Am I the last one to find out again?”

“I didn’t know,” Younghoon says.

“Just a couple of people know,” Sunwoo explains. “In the group, I mean. Chanhee hyung, Changmin hyung.”

There’s a pause before Jaehyun asks, voice softer than it was a minute ago. “Why do you need to take those?”

Sunwoo takes his cap off to scratch his head, trying to choose the right words. There never seems to be any, but he tries, anyway. “Because I was feeling a little off, having trouble sleeping. Nothing much.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” As blunt as it sounds, he knows Jaehyun isn’t trying to accuse him, or corner him in any way. He sounds, if anything, genuinely concerned. He hands Sunwoo his phone back. “You could’ve told me, at least.”

“There was nothing to say. I had like, less than half a bottle left, anyway. I’d be off them soon.”

 _Hopefully_ , he wants to add, but doesn’t.

“When did you start taking them?” 

Sunwoo tries to think back, looking at Chanhee to see if he remembers it. “September? Of last year? Right?”

Chanhee nods. 

Jaehyun looks baffled. “That’s...” He does some quick math in his head. “Over six months?! I thought you meant you were taking them like, for a couple of weeks. Six months is a long fucking time. What—What happened, why did you—?”

“September of 2019, hyung,” Chanhee interrupts him, giving him a pointed look. “Can you not think of anything around that time that might’ve triggered some anxiety?”

It finally dawns on him. Jaehyun looks positively heartbroken when he says, “Hyunjoonie?”

Sunwoo nods, curtly. He doesn’t know what to say that hasn’t been said already. Hyunjoon left. They were all crushed over it, including Hyunjoon himself. End of story.

“That’s not all, though,” Chanhee says. Sunwoo looks up at him, surprised, and finds Chanhee’s eyes on him, kind, but not coddling. “He’s made some very idiotic choices since then. It’s taken a toll on him.”

“That’s a dramatic way to put it,” Sunwoo tries to joke. Chanhee isn’t having it.

“I think it’s very accurate, actually.”

“Wait,” Younghoon is frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“I know it’s not my place, which is why I haven’t said anything all this time, Sunwoo-ya,” Chanhee says. “But since we’re being brutally honest here, I’m just gonna say it. You fucked up big time with Haknyeon. He didn’t deserve any of the shit you put him through.”

“I didn’t put him through anything,” Sunwoo fires back. “I didn’t _do_ anything, at all, actually.”

“Exactly. You just left him hanging. You made him lose two friends at once,” Chanhee argues before he’s even finished. “That’s messed up, and unfair, and you know it.”

“Wait, wait, wait. I thought you two had fought,” Jaehyun says, staring at Sunwoo. “There wasn’t a fight?”

“Not really.” Sunwoo feels uncomfortable, but he knows there’s no point in denying it at this point. He’s got nothing to lose anymore. Literally. He rubs at his face, trying to piece the words together. “He tried to have an argument a few times. I mostly let him whisper scream at me.” 

“I don’t understand,” Younghoon says. “What happened between the two of you?”

Sunwoo sighs. He tries to meet their eyes, but he feels embarrassed, small. It’s a weird feeling, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. He looks up at the ceiling instead, then back down at his shoes. “When Hyunjoon said he was leaving… it made me realize a couple of things. One, this wasn’t gonna last forever.” He pauses, snickering at how ironic that sounds now. “No shit. Two, I didn’t want to go through that again. The pain of having someone close to you just up and leave. I know it was the best call, and I know Hyunjoon wasn’t—He wasn’t happy. I know he was feeling awful about the whole thing, and I know he made the best decision he could with the cards he was dealt. But it still hurt like shit. I just didn’t wanna go through that again.”

“Where does Haknyeon fit in all this?” Jaehyun asks, so soft it’s almost a whisper.

“I was too close,” Sunwoo explains, which doesn’t really explain anything. He tries again. “I was too attached to him. I knew that if I lost him it’d hurt just as much as it did with Hyunjoon, if not more. I couldn’t deal with that. I couldn’t even imagine losing—“

Sunwoo chokes on his own words, on the immensity of them now, knowing he _did_ lose him. He lost him in the worst possible way aside from death—if this wasn’t, after all, some kind of death. He brings both hands to his face, trying to keep the stubborn tears back, but it’s a rapidly losing battle. He feels an arm around him, hugging him, comforting him. 

“Anyway.” He wipes at his eyes, but a couple of tears fall despite his best efforts. “I pulled away because I was scared. Still am.” 

“Scared of losing him?” Jaehyun sounds close. He’s the one hugging him, then. Sunwoo still hasn’t looked up. 

“Scared of losing him,” he agrees. Then adds, “Scared of loving him.”

“Why were you scared of that?” Chanhee asks.

Sunwoo shrugs, even though he doesn’t think the question warrants that. “A million different reasons.” He looks up, meets Chanhee’s eyes. “Were you never scared?”

“Of course I was.”

“Of loving someone?”

Chanhee hesitates. He wets his lips, choosing his answer carefully. “You can’t stop yourself from living out of fear. I thought you of all people would know that.”

“I’m not as brave as you think I am.”

“No. No, I guess you’re not,” Chanhee agrees. “If you were, you wouldn’t hurt Haknyeon and yourself like this.”

Sunwoo stares at him, at a loss for words. Chanhee stares right back, almost daring him to contradict him. But Sunwoo wouldn’t, because he’s right, isn’t he? Sunwoo took the coward's way out. That much he knows now. 

“Are you still in touch with Hyunjoon?” Jaehyun asks. 

“Yeah,” Sunwoo says, finally averting his eyes. It’s not exactly a lie, even though the truth is a bit more complicated than that. “A little.”

“So you didn’t really lose him. Not any more than we all lost him. He’s still in our lives. I know he’s in mine.” Jaehyun pulls his arm from around Sunwoo now that he isn’t crying anymore, but he stays at his side. “He’s a friend for life. I don’t know why it would be any different with Haknyeon if—God forbid—he ever had to leave.”

It’s Younghoon who says, quietly, “Because he’s in love with him.”

Sunwoo doesn’t correct him. 

“Oh.” Jaehyun pauses. No one says anything for a moment before he adds, “Does he know?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Why haven’t you told him?”

“Because—“ A nervous laughter bubbles up Sunwoo’s throat. He can’t help it. “I don’t know how to do this, any of this. I’m scared. Terrified, actually. I know that saying anything would just screw things up to the point of no return. He doesn’t see me that way.”

“Did he say that?” Chanhee asks.

“He doesn’t have to say it.”

“He doesn’t?” Jaehyun tilts his head, makes a face. “Haknyeonie can be a little hard to read sometimes.”

“Well, I think you’re being dumb,” Chanhee says to Sunwoo. He stands up. “But maybe that’s just me. I’m gonna get some chips, do you guys want anything?”

They mumble no with varying degrees of quietness, and Chanhee stalks off to the nearest vending machine.

“He’s not angry at you,” Jaehyun whispers as soon as he thinks he’s far enough away. “He’s probably just nervous with all this.” He gestures vaguely. “Don’t let that get to you.”

Sunwoo nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

The sounds of the machine beeping and of Chanhee retrieving the bag of chips seem to echo in the empty station. It feels very surreal, in a way. Like they’re characters in an early Silent Hill game, every single sound so uncharacteristically loud in the absence of noise. When Chanhee comes back, he offers the open bag to them. Younghoon takes a couple of chips, but the other two decline it. 

Jaehyun, who has been quietly staring at nothing, turns to Younghoon. “How come you’re so calm?” 

Younghoon takes his time thinking, considering the question. “I dunno. I think it hasn’t hit me yet.” 

“You’re not weirded out?” Jaehyun presses. “Not even a bit?”

“I am. But I don’t know. It’s like… Like I’m waiting for it to just go back to normal. You know?” He thinks for a second, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“Denial,” Jaehyun says, pointing at him. Then he points to Sunwoo and Chanhee, “Depression. Bargaining. And I guess I’m anger?” 

Sunwoo turns to him. “What are you talking about?” 

“The stages of grief.” 

Chanhee sighs. “That’s not how it works.” 

“I know. Still kinda accurate if you ask me.”

They’re in silence for another moment, listening to Chanhee chewing his chips.

“I’m just glad you guys are here.” Younghoon is unfazed for a second before he notices what he just said. “Not—I mean, not that I’m glad you’re stuck here, I just—I’m glad I’m not alone. And that I have you guys. I’m always more thankful for all of you than I can put into words. Not just right now. But always.”

It’s blunt, but a kind of bluntness that they have learned to expect from Younghoon. He fishes another chip from the bag Chanhee is holding within his reach, but he doesn’t eat it. He stares at it, sadly, or maybe just thoughtful—it’s really hard to tell at this point.

“You guys mean a lot to me. I mean it. Always meant it, since that time I said you were the most important meeting of my life. I don’t know how you can do it.” He looks up to meet Sunwoo’s eyes. “Walk away from someone you care about. I could never do that. I expect people to walk away from me, but I could never do the same. And I don’t mean it poetically, I literally couldn’t even if I tried, I think.” 

Chanhee frowns. “What do you mean you expect people to walk away from you?”

Younghoon shrugs, shoving the chip he has been holding into his mouth. “I know I’m not anyone’s priority.”

“What?” 

“It’s okay! I’m used to it.” 

“You’re—” Chanhee can’t continue. He stutters for a second, blinking in obvious confusion. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“From my life?” 

Younghoon wipes his hands on his jeans, leaning his head against Chanhee’s thigh again. He misses Chanhee’s flabbergasted expression above him. 

“You can’t just say things like that and not explain yourself.”

His tone is enough to get Younghoon to sit up straight again, giving up on his relaxed position. He looks up at Chanhee. “Why are you mad?”

“Because!” Chanhee looks at the other two for support, but his eyes land on Younghoon again. “That’s absurd. What do you mean you aren’t anyone’s priority? You have a bajillion fans.”

“And I’m very thankful for them. But it’s only a matter of time before they leave, and we know that.”

Chanhee scoffs. “If you’re gonna be that pessimistic, sure. But you still have us. Me. Changmin.”

“Until...?”

Chanhee blinks at him. “Until… I don’t know, forever?”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re gonna get tired of me at some point. It’s not like either of you need me. You’re fine on your own, and you have each other. I’m not necessary, much less a priority there.” He says it so matter-of-factly the fact that his voice is a notch lower, a notch deeper almost goes unnoticed. Only almost. They know him too well by now. “And I know that. It’s ok.”

“But it’s not.” Chanhee sounds frustrated, confused. He’s getting more agitated by the second. “That’s not ok, at all. You’re so wrong, hyung—Younghoonie, you’re so wrong. I can’t believe—What gave you that idea? That you’re not a priority? Do you think we’d just leave you? Just like that?”

“Maybe? Probably?” Younghoon shrugs again. “You guys would be fine without me. The group would be fine, too.”

“That’s not true,” Jaehyun says right away. 

“Not true at all, hyung,” Sunwoo agrees. 

Younghoon gives them a smile that’s still too small, too tight. “It’s ok, really.”

“It’s not,” Chanhee argues. He has completely forgotten about the bag of chips now, setting it aside. “Look at me.”

Younghoon does.

“You’re super fucking important. To me, to the group. To Changmin. He’d be so upset to hear you saying that, seriously. He’d—“ He stops, and at first it looks like he’s just choosing his words, or pausing for effect, but he still doesn’t say anything. He bites his lip, does that blinking thing he does, looking up. They realize, rather belatedly, that he’s holding back tears. 

Younghoon stands up immediately, sitting next to him on the bench. “No. Hey, no, don’t cry.” He hugs Chanhee, enveloping him in his arms and bringing him close to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled against Chanhee’s hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

They can probably count on the fingers of one hand how many times they’ve seen Chanhee cry. They can’t really _see_ him now—he’s hiding his face on the fabric of Younghoon’s hoodie—but that’s what’s happening, and they know it. There’s no escaping tears right now, of course. Not when reality feels off, and they’re not sure what is up or down anymore. But it’s still jarring to witness it because it’s _Chanhee_ , and Chanhee doesn’t cry easily. He doesn’t let people hug him like Younghoon is doing now, cradling him against his chest. It’s a reminder that this is not normal. None of it. Whatever is happening, it’s terribly wrong, and enough to break down the strongest among them. 

“I’m sorry,” Younghoon is saying again, still holding onto Chanhee tightly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Chanhee pulls back. “How did you mean it, then?”

His face is red, and his eyes are wet with tears. He wipes at his face angrily, but Younghoon is gentler when he brushes his thumb on his cheek. “I just meant that I’ve always been the second choice, the backup plan. Even to my parents, really. I was never anyone’s first choice. There’s no reason I should be now.”

“Well, there is. There’s plenty of reason.” Chanhee lets Younghoon wipe the rest of the tears from his face, but he still looks upset. “And I shouldn’t be this angry over this, but it’s just such bullshit, and Changmin should be here to tell you exactly that, and to tell you you’re an idiot—“

“It’s usually you who calls me an idiot, though.”

“Then fine, you’re an idiot!” Chanhee sighs, rubs at his eyes. “Please tell him he’s an idiot, guys.”

“You’re an idiot, hyung.” Sunwoo deadpans. He manages to get a real smile from Younghoon this time, which he considers a victory. “But seriously, you shouldn’t be thinking like that. You’re important not just to the group but to us as your friends, too. Don’t think you’re replaceable, because you’re not.”

“Ditto,” Jaehyun says. “I gotta say I’m surprised, though. I always thought you were so…”

“Full of myself?” Younghoon grins.

“I was gonna say confident, but yeah.”

“I am. I know I have my qualities. But that usually doesn’t mean much.” He looks at Chanhee by his side, still wiping at the corners of his eyes, refusing to look up just yet. “And I know what they have is special.”

That does it. Chanhee snaps his head up to meet Younghoon’s eyes. “What _we_ have. That includes you.”

“Does it?” It sounds too vulnerable, too honest. It doesn’t as much surprise the others as it catches them off guard; Jaehyun and Sunwoo especially are looking elsewhere, aware that this is not something they’d be privy to in other circumstances. 

Chanhee cups Younghoon’s face with a hand. “It does.” He’s much gentler now, his anger giving way to tenderness. “I thought you knew that.”

Younghoon nuzzles against Chanhee’s hand, shakes his head minutely.

“We should’ve made you see that when we had the chance,” Chanhee says, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry we didn’t. I’m sorry _I_ didn’t. And I’m sorry if I’m too… angry right now, but seriously, if you think I’d be even remotely functional right now if you weren’t here… Don’t make me think about losing you too. Please.”

“I won’t. Sorry.”

Jaehyun stands up. He stretches his arms in an overly casual way. “So. I’m gonna go, uh, get some water. Or something. Sunwoo?”

“Yup, coming.” 

They walk away in the direction of the vending machines, giving the other two some minimal privacy. If they speak after they leave, it’s too low for Jaehyun and Sunwoo to hear. There’s a row of five machines, each for a different kind of snack or drink. Sunwoo stops in front of the one displaying several types of sweets.

“These are so pricey.” He taps a fingernail on the glass. Jaehyun hums in agreement.

“The apocalypse suddenly turned you into a cheapskate?”

Sunwoo smiles. Jaehyun catches his eye and smiles, too. It’s stupid, but there’s something soothing about Jaehyun’s bad jokes now. It reminds them that they’re still there, for starters. And that they’re not alone.

“I don’t mind paying well for food, but this is barely even food. You want something?”

Jaehyun leans closer, taps on the glass. “That one. No, the citrus one. Yeah.”

Sunwoo picks that, then picks two bags of sweets for himself and one that he knows Younghoon likes. He swipes his card as Jaehyun gets them four bottles of water from the machine next to his. They stall a little, discussing the flavors of chips, comparing the price to the markets they usually shop at, but eventually find their way back to the others.

Chanhee extends a hand as soon as they’re close enough, and Jaehyun hands him a bottle. He looks better, calmer. He’s still a little pink around the eyes, but no one acknowledges it. Younghoon is sitting next to him on the bench, legs stretched out in front of him. Sunwoo throws him the sweets, which he catches mid-air. He perks up when he sees what it is. “Oh, I love these. Thank you.” 

“No problem.”

“You know, I really shouldn’t,” Chanhee says after taking a considerable sip of his water. “But I’m getting hungry.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Younghoon asks. 

“Because we’re either dead or everyone else is. That should’ve killed my appetite one way or another.”

“Should we head back to the dorm, get something to eat?” Jaehyun suggests.

It’s Sunwoo who voices what they’re all thinking. “I don’t think I can step in there right now. It’d feel too much like a ghost town.”

“We could head back to the mall.” Younghoon says around a mouthful of candy.

Chanhee turns to him. “Why?”

“There are restaurants there,” Younghoon explains. “Plus, it’s where it all started… I don’t know.”

They consider it for a second. Sunwoo says, “Couldn’t hurt. At least we can eat.”

“I’ll go, but I don’t think I can eat just yet,” Jaehyun says, standing up again. He offers a hand to Sunwoo to help him up, too. “Maybe an ice cream, or something.”

Sunwoo checks his phone as they start to head out. No new notifications. The clock shows 1:28pm.

They walk out of the station mostly in silence. It feels, if anything, emptier. Sunwoo figures it’s a matter of perspective—they walked in there hoping to find people. Now they’re walking out knowing they won’t.

The sky is a little cloudy, enough so that the sun isn’t too hot on their heads despite the time. Jaehyun walks ahead again, but this time Sunwoo walks next to him. Chanhee and Younghoon are right behind them. They’re holding hands. Jaehyun is still looking around—he watches the buildings, the parked cars, the cafes. Be it curiosity or hope, his eyes keep scanning the area, darting from store to store, building to building. The other three don’t bother.

“So,” Sunwoo says as they get closer to their building and closer to the car. “You were telling us how you wanna bone Jacob hyung.”

Jaehyun, who’s pulling the car keys out of his pocket, turns to him and chuckles. “I never said anything about boning.”

“But you do.”

“I mean, who doesn’t?” Jaehyun shrugs. He presses the button to unlock the car when they’re a few steps away, then walks around to the driver’s side. “But again: not what I said.”

Sunwoo goes for the backseat at first, but Chanhee says, “Do you mind?” And gestures towards the passenger side. Sunwoo shakes his head, letting Chanhee and Younghoon pile into the backseat while he takes the seat next to Jaehyun. 

“What _did_ you say, then?” He says, pulling on his seatbelt. “Let’s talk about your crush.” 

“Are you trying to make me barf again?”

“Wait, are you going to?” Chanhee leans forward, between Jaehyun and Sunwoo’s seat, to say: “Please don’t, I like this car.”

“I’m not gonna throw up! I think.” He mutters the second sentence, then adds when he sees Chanhee open his mouth again: “I won’t! Even if I were, I could just stop anywhere and do it _outside_ of the car.” 

“Yeah, you could. Please remember that.” Chanhee leans back on his seat, pulling on his seatbelt at last.

“And I’m not letting you off the hook, hyung,” Sunwoo says as Jaehyun drives out of the parking spot and onto the street. “Tell us about your crush.”

“I don’t know what to say. Seriously,” he opens his hands for emphasis. “Like I said, I’m not even sure if it’s a crush.”

“Would you kiss him?” Younghoon asks. 

Jaehyun barely even thinks for a second. “Yes.”

“Fuck him?” Chanhee asks.

Jaehyun makes a face. “That’s so crude. And I know that’s ironic coming from me of all people but like, it’s _Jacob_. It’s weird to talk about fucking him. Sacrilegious, even.”

“Fine. Would you _make love_ to him?” Chanhee asks, all sarcasm and no patience. Sunwoo snorts. 

“Probably. I mean. Like I said, who wouldn’t?”

“I wouldn’t,” Younghoon says. There’s a moment of silence as he looks at the others, waiting for them to agree. No one does. He turns to Chanhee. “Wait, you would?”

Chanhee shrugs. “He’s hot.”

“Isn’t he a virgin?”

“He isn’t,” Sunwoo says. There’s another moment of silence before Sunwoo realizes they’re looking at him. “He _told_ me, Jesus Christ—We talked about it. I didn’t sleep with him. He dated the same girl for, uh, 4 years? I think? before he moved here. It was pretty serious. I thought everyone knew that?” 

Chanhee and Younghoon shake their heads no.

“Oh yeah, I remember him mentioning that,” Jaehyun tilts his head, as if thinking back to a distant memory. “Ages ago, like, we were trainees still. I remember wondering why they had broken up, because Jacob sounded like he was still so fond of her when he told the story…”

“Lots of things we don’t know about each other,” Sunwoo muses out loud. “That we’ll never know now, probably.”

They don’t address that. Instead, Chanhee raises his voice to ask, chirpily, “Would you marry him?”

“Is it legal?” Jaehyun tries to find Chanhee’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Just humor me.”

“Oh.” Jaehyun considers the question for such a long time, they almost feel like he’s not gonna answer it. “Yes. I think I would. He’s such an interesting person, I feel like I’d never get tired of it? If it makes sense? And also like, he’d probably be very caring as a, uh. Partner? Husband? Because if you think about it, he’s already very caring as a friend. So chances are, he’d be an excellent person to tie the knot with. And he likes dogs.”

“Very important,” Younghoon nods solemnly in agreement, staring out the window.

Chanhee is smirking. “I think it’s very clear you have a crush on him, hyung.” 

“Let’s put it this way,” Sunwoo says. “Would you marry anyone else in the group?”

Jaehyun thinks for a moment. “I don’t think so? Wait. Kevin can cook. But nah, I don’t think we’d be a good match.”

“I mean, you used the argument that Jacob is _caring_ to justify why you’d marry him.” Chanhee says. “So the fact that you wouldn’t marry Kevin, who’s basically Mr Congeniality, says a lot.”

“Touché.” 

“Would you fuck anyone else in the group, though?” Sunwoo asks.

“Oh, definitely.”

It’s such a quick, sure answer that Chanhee spits out laughing. “And you thought you were straight? Seriously?”

“Heterosexuality is a prison,” Jaehyun says, making them laugh. “I don’t know how else to explain it. I just never thought about it, I guess.”

“You’re very chill about it, though. That’s good.”

“Well, when the alternative is thinking about this,” Jaehyun gestures vaguely to the empty world beyond the windows; they’re driving around an empty bus in the middle of the road. “I’m super fucking happy to discuss if I like dick or not. But why? Do you think I’d freak out? Did _you_ freak out?” 

Chanhee shrugs. “Not really. I either always knew or didn’t notice it when I finally realized.”

“Same,” Younghoon says but he sounds distracted, still staring out the window. “Do you think we should check somewhere else?”

It’s sudden enough that no one answers at first. Then Sunwoo says, “Like, drive around?”

“Yeah. Maybe we could find someone… Like, if we drove to Incheon, or something.” 

“Should we?” Jaehyun’s voice is much softer than it was a moment ago. They know what Younghoon means by Incheon. They know he means his own home. “We have enough gas for it.”

“I think we should,” Younghoon says, almost mumbling. 

“Let’s do it then.” Jaehyun seems to think only for a second before he changes lanes to get the next exit. He’s still using the blinkers, despite the fact that there’s literally no traffic.

Sunwoo passes a bag of jellies to Chanhee in the backseat, wordlessly. Chanhee accepts it and dives right in, sighing when he eats the first couple of jellies. 

“I freaked out,” Sunwoo says after a moment of silence, out of nowhere. 

Jaehyun glances at him. “How bad was it?”

“Could’ve been worse.” Sunwoo pops a jelly into his mouth. “Could’ve been better, too. To be honest, I was less worried about the fact that I might like a guy than I was about who the guy was. And how that could royally fuck with both of our lives if anyone found out.” 

“Wait— _Haknyeon_ was your gay awakening?” Jaehyun’s eyebrows have shot up behind his fringe in surprise. “How long have you—Wait.”

From the backseat, Chanhee says, “Give him a minute, his brain is getting there.”

Jaehyun ignores him. “You did like him! We used to joke that you were like, whipped for him. But you actually were. Wait, how did I miss that?”

“You missed your own crush, you tell me.” Sunwoo says. He pops another handful of jellies into his mouth. “It’s a good thing you missed it, though. At least it means I wasn’t being that obvious.”

“Oh, you were,” Younghoon says. “It’s just that people only see it if it’s between a guy and a girl. You were very obvious.”

“Thanks, hyung, that’s very reassuring.”

The atmosphere is a little lighter after that. They’re trying not to focus too much on the empty streets, or on the way they’re making a one-hour trip in a lot less than that with the lack of traffic. Sunwoo plugs his phone in to charge it, using the opportunity to turn on some music. They recognize it as one of his playlists, some chill R&B that goes well with the cloudy sky above them. There are still no new notifications, no new messages. Sunwoo knows he’s being silly for checking, but every time he opens his Kakao, he still hopes something will have changed. It doesn’t. His messages go unread. He locks his phone and stares out the window again.

Chanhee checks his own phone, too. He announces to the car what they already know: no news, no activity on social media, no nothing. It’s weird to open Instagram, he says; the InstaStories from that morning are still there, and Instagram’s weird out-of-order feed gives it a false sense of immediacy. He locks his phone, too.

They don’t see anyone. The roads to Incheon feel much like a paused scene in a movie—there are cars everywhere, frozen in place, no driver or passenger in sight. It’s somehow creepier than it was deeper into town. At least there, the cars that were actually parked gave some semblance of normalcy—in a highway, it’s even more clear that this is not normal. The cars aren’t parked, they’re just there. Abandoned, but not really. Frozen in time. 

“Do you want to go somewhere specific? Your father’s restaurant?” Jaehyun asks as they pass the first _Welcome to Incheon_ sign.

He’s looking at Younghoon through the rearview mirror. Younghoon meets his eyes and nods. He’s gotten quiet again; Chanhee holds his hand. 

Jaehyun needs some directions, but GPS is working just fine, thankfully. He drives carefully, checking twice every time he needs to make a turn. Younghoon isn’t much help—they’re not sure if he’s too anxious to speak, or simply doesn’t know the way. A few minutes after they reach town, Jaehyun drives up the street to the restaurant. Younghoon leans forward, grabbing onto Jaehyun’s seat in front of him, eyes anxiously scanning the empty street. 

There’s no sign of life.

When they park in front of the restaurant, it’s clear that this is no different than downtown Seoul. The cars are still empty. The buildings, vacant. The restaurant looks open for business, except they see no one. 

“Hyung…” Chanhee begins, but Younghoon opens the door and leaps out of the car before he can finish.

“Dad!” He calls out. “Dad!”

The other three don’t react as Younghoon jogs up to the front doors and walks inside.

Chanhee curses under his breath, opening his door to go after him.

“This was a bad idea,” Jaehyun says, before following them. Sunwoo does, too, but he lags behind. 

This was a really bad idea.

Younghoon is calling his dad and a couple of other names, too—people who work there, people he knows. No one answers him. He walks into the kitchen, then into the offices behind it. There’s no one there.

“He should be here. His car is outside. It’s working hours, he should be here,” Younghoon says, emerging from the kitchen. He sounds pitiful. Scared. It registers on all of them, because Chanhee reaches him, takes his hand again. 

“We should go,” he says.

“They should be here,” Younghoon tells him, like he hadn’t heard him the first time. “Where are they? Do you think he could be at home?”

Chanhee hesitates, licking his lips. He shakes his head. “No, baby. I don’t think so.”

“He should be here,” Younghoon repeats, like a broken record. He lets Chanhee hug him, whispering things the other two can’t hear.

Jaehyun walks out then, in large steps, stopping right outside and doubling over, hands on his knees. Sunwoo follows him, and Jaehyun explains, “I think I’m gonna be sick again.”

“Breathe, hyung,” Sunwoo says. He gets closer to rub Jaehyun’s back. “Just breathe.”

“I don’t think I even have anything else in my stomach. Water? Oh, wait. Gatorade.”

“If you don’t want me to accompany you please stop making inventory of the contents of your stomach,” Sunwoo says. “It’s gonna be fine. You’re not gonna throw up.”

Chanhee and Younghoon walk out a few minutes later. Younghoon is letting Chanhee lead him by the hand while he wipes at his eyes, looking down and letting his hair hide his face. Chanhee takes a look at the two of them there and says, “We should go back. Can you drive?”

“Not sure I can, honestly.” Jaehyun looks up at Sunwoo. “Can you?”

Sunwoo shakes his head no.

“I’ll drive,” Chanhee says. “Just make sure you’re not gonna throw up in the car.”

Jaehyun looks ready to argue, but he lets it go. It’s another ten or so minutes before he says he’s confident enough he’s not gonna be sick. He takes a sip of his water, leaning against the car, while Younghoon is mumbling an apology that none of them think is necessary. 

“If anything, we should be apologizing to you. This would be too much for anyone,” Jaehyun says. “I don’t know why I went along with it.”

“You were hoping he was right,” Sunwoo explains from where he’s crouching, drawing on the sand with a stick. “That we’d find someone out of the city limits. It was as good a guess as any.”

“It was dumb,” Younghoon whines.

“It was a guess, hyung,” Sunwoo argues. 

“ _We were here_ ,” Chanhee reads over Sunwoo’s shoulder. “Who’s this for?”

“Ourselves? Myself, in any case.” Sunwoo stands up, throwing the stick away and wiping his hands on his pants. “A reminder that we’re here, wherever _here_ is.”

He pulls out his phone to take a picture of the message written in the sand. He turns in time to see Jaehyun throwing the car keys to Chanhee, who catches it in one hand. Any other time, they would have probably commented on it. Made a joke, teased Chanhee for his hidden talent for sports. But they don’t have the heart for it now. Chanhee just walks over to the driver’s side, and the rest follow. Sunwoo takes the passenger seat again, while Jaehyun and Younghoon take the backseat.

The drive back is a lot quieter. Sunwoo turns some music on again, but he keeps skipping songs until Chanhee tells him to leave it be.

“It’s a good playlist,” he says, as if that’s a good enough finishing argument. 

Younghoon lies down on the backseat, resting his head on Jaehyun’s lap. They don’t have to worry about being fined or pulled over, anyway. Jaehyun caresses his hair, almost distractedly. They don’t speak for a long time until, finally, Younghoon says, “Talk about your crush on Jacob again.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “I’d love to, but I don’t know what to say. He’s cute. I like hanging out with him. Wouldn’t mind kissing him. That’s about it.”

“What would you say to him, if you could see him again?” Younghoon asks.

It’s a heavy question masquerading as an innocent question, and they know that. Sunwoo turns the music down until it’s barely more than background noise. Jaehyun takes his time thinking about it, looking out the window. They don’t rush him.

“I think… I would thank him,” he says, finally. “He taught me a lot in these years we’ve known each other. He taught me compassion, for once. Patience. He inspired me a lot, too. He still does. There’s this thing he does, where he always lets you finish whatever you’re saying before he says anything, and I always found that so unique? Not just because I was the complete opposite, but because it’s so him. It’s so like him to hear everything everyone has to say. Even if he couldn’t care less. You know what I mean?” He looks down at Younghoon, then back out the window. He’s smiling. “He always does so much to accomodate people. I remember being upset at first, like, thinking he was being weak for not standing up for himself. But that’s the thing, that wasn’t weakness. And he _was_ taking a stand. He’s always taking a stand. It’s just that usually his stance is kindness, and patience. When I realized that, man, I was so amazed. That was so different from how I had led my life up until that point. I had figured out that to stand up for myself and to make myself heard, I had to be brutally honest and upfront, no matter how it was received. And here was this guy who was just so nice. Genuinely nice, not fake nice, or camera nice. And he was making himself heard that way.” He pauses for a second. “And the funny thing is, I like when he’s not that nice the most, I think. I like it when he gets mad, or when he’s too tired to filter his words, because that’s when I get to see that it’s a conscious effort. You know? He _chooses_ to be kind. 

“I learn so much from him, every day. I think I’d say that. That he’s an incredible human being, and that he’s teached me more than anyone else that’s not my immediate family. And that even though we keep calling him an angel, he is what I hope humans are supposed to be like. I’d say that I owe him a lot, and that I hope he’s always happy.”

They’re quiet for a moment before Younghoon says, “That’s beautiful.”

Jaehyun smiles. “He’s so fed up with being called nice, though, he’d probably hate to hear this.”

“He wouldn’t,” Sunwoo says. “He’d get it.”

The song ends just then. It’s very quiet in the car before the next song starts and Jaehyun asks, “Sunwoo, what would you say to Haknyeon?”

Sunwoo shifts in place. Chanhee looks at him from the corner of his eyes, but no one says anything. They’re waiting, and like with Jaehyun, they don’t push him.

“I’d say that I’m sorry. That I was a coward, that I should never have let him go. His friendship and his happiness mean more to me than I could ever put in words.” He pauses, clears his throat. “If I could see him again, if I could talk to him again… I’d promise to be there for him, for as long as he’d let me.”

His voice dies out as he brushes a hand on his face. Chanhee takes his other hand to give it a supportive squeeze.

“It’s kinda funny, when you think about it. I was scared of losing my career because of my love for him, then I was scared of losing him because of our careers, and now I’ve lost both things.” He laughs, but it’s emotionless. Pained. “I used to have this urge to protect him, to shield him from all the shit he was constantly going through. I still get that but I know now that he doesn’t need me to do that. He’s the strongest person I know. I’d still give everything I have to help him achieve his dreams, though. He deserves that. Deserved.”

“Don’t. Don’t use past tense,” Chanhee says, softly.

“Yeah. Anyway.” Sunwoo takes a long breath, licking his lips. He’s staring out the window, even though he isn’t really paying attention to the scenery. “I’d tell him that I’m sorry, most of all. And that I love him.”

The silence falls heavy, uncomfortable. There’s nothing they can say to that. There’s nothing they can do, either. Sunwoo doesn’t know if he’s impressed with himself, for being able to say all of that out loud, or if he’s scared for ripping his chest open like that. But despair is knocking on a corner of his brain, trying to let itself out, and if being honest can offer him some sort of catharsis to hold it back a little longer, then so be it. 

“What do you like about him?” Younghoon asks after they’ve been quiet for a couple of minutes. 

Sunwoo chuckles. “This is starting to feel like an intervention.” 

He thinks for a second, biting his lips. 

“I don’t know. I like his eyes. He makes me laugh. He’s funny, bright. Loud. So fucking loud. I like his personality, I don’t think there’s anyone else like him. I like talking to him, listening to him. I like his voice. I like his stubbornness, which everyone says is his biggest flaw, but I think it makes sense. He just never stops trying. He’s resilient. I admire that a lot in him.”

“He really is stubborn as shit,” Jaehyun agrees, making them laugh. It helps alleviate some of the tension in the air. 

“He is,” Sunwoo says. He’s smiling, a real smile this time. “But that’s just so him. I like it. He has a really big heart, too.”

“I swear I thought you were gonna say he has a big ass,” Jaehyun says.

The other three burst out laughing. Younghoon laughs so hard he has to sit up again. 

“Seriously, hyung. Read the room,” Chanhee chides him, but he’s laughing too.

This is familiar, in a way. They lost count of how many times Jaehyun did that before—cracking a joke, or making a random comment when the atmosphere is too heavy to handle. He’s smiling now, looking at the others. The music is still playing, and the sky is still a little too gray, but the silence that follows isn’t as suffocating. They get lost in their own thoughts as Chanhee drives them back to Seoul, the world just as empty around them as it was on the way out.

They drive straight to the mall this time. It looks exactly like it did when they left it hours ago, even though it feels longer than that. Sunwoo checks his phone—it’s 3:41pm. He doesn’t check Kakao this time.

“I’m so hungry I could eat an entire chicken right now,” Chanhee says as they walk through the deserted mall towards the food court. They took the main entrance this time, and were met with soft ambient music again. It gave the place a creepier quality now that they knew it wasn’t just the mall that was devoid of any signs of life, but they did their best to ignore it. 

“How are we even gonna eat if there’s no one actually there to cook the food?” Jaehyun asks. 

“Buffet. Or we can cook it ourselves,” Chanhee explains. They stop in their tracks, having reached the food court. There are plates and trays on a few tables, half-eaten dishes left behind. The table closest to them has four different sets of McDonalds combos; two of them are clearly kid’s meals. Chanhee whips his head up, throwing his fringe off his eyes and ignoring the desolate image before them. “If we’re gonna cook, we just need a place that has easy access to the kitchen.”

They walk around checking the restaurants in the fairly-sized food court. Two of them have self-service buffets, but they’re thrown off the idea when they realize the food has been out in the open for hours, some of it already starting to attract flies. 

“Everyone for cooking?” Chanhee asks.

“Definitely,” Jaehyun says, eyeing a bowl of rice sadly. “Where?”

“That one?” Younghoon points to the place across from them, where the kitchen seems to be in plain view of the food court, behind a large serving window and a small door.

The place is clean and very organized, which Chanhee points out isn’t exactly a rule when it comes to these food court restaurants. It must be part of the reason why their kitchen is so visible—to attract customers by the idea of hygiene and open-frontness about the food. They need to jump over the balcony to reach the door, but they do it easily enough. The kitchen is big enough to fit the four of them, but only barely. Chanhee starts going through storage, checking for ingredients, while Jaehyun reads one of the screens showing previous orders.

“What do you all want to eat? They get a lot of orders for ribs here, I think.” 

“Do they have jjigae on the menu?” Chanhee asks, checking the pots on the industrial stove. 

“Yeah. Kimchi jjigae, mostly.”

“I think we can make some.”

Chanhee and Jaehyun end up doing most of the work while Younghoon and Sunwoo set plates and chopsticks in one of the tables outside. They grab drinks, too, from the freezer just behind the counter.

“Should we pay for it?” Younghoon asks when everything is set and they’re just waiting for the food to get ready. They can hear Chanhee and Jaehyun talking in the kitchen, busy with the food.

Sunwoo looks at him. “Maybe?” He doesn’t say that he thinks it’s pointless. “Do you know how to do it?”

“We did it once, didn’t we?” Younghoon walks over to the cash register. “Oh. This looks a lot fancier than the one we had to deal with.”

They take so much time trying to figure out the system that by the time Younghoon is swiping his card, Chanhee and Jaehyun are walking out of the kitchen, Chanhee carrying the main dish while Jaehyun balances three bowls of side dishes on his arms. Sunwoo helps them transfer it all to the table while Younghoon finishes paying for their meal. 

“I don’t know why you’d bother,” Jaehyun says as they sit down to eat. He gestures towards Younghoon’s phone on the table, where he stores the cards on his phone case. “But that’s nice.”

“It’d feel like stealing if we didn’t pay for it,” Younghoon explains. He’s digging in right away, as is Sunwoo. Chanhee is somehow already halfway through a bite, while Jaehyun doesn’t seem all that interested in eating, sipping from his soda instead.

It’s another few minutes of silence as they eat, an old 4MEN song playing softly in the distance. Sunwoo doesn’t remember being able to hear ambient music in the food court before, when it was always filled with people, and noise, and life. He isn’t that hungry, either, but he figures he’d rather eat and be done with it than feel sick later with an empty stomach. He imagines it’s the same thing going on through Younghoon’s mind, who is usually more enthusiastic about eating than this. The only one whose appetite seems unaffected is Chanhee, who is eating with enough enthusiasm for all of them.

“Are we missing something?” Jaehyun asks. He’s staring at the table, lost in thought. “Should we be doing something? To fix things?”

“This isn’t a movie, hyung,” Sunwoo says, slowly. He doesn’t look up from his food. “This isn’t Marvel.”

“I know. But still. Are we missing something here? We must be.”

“If we are, I have no idea what it is,” Chanhee says. “I thought about it, on the way here. I just don’t see how anything like this could happen, much less how we could make it _not_ happen. I’m still not sure I just haven’t gone crazy.”

“If you’re crazy, we all are,” Jaehyun argues.

“We’re all mad here,” Sunwoo mutters under his breath. When Jaehyun gives him a pointed look, he shrugs. “If you’re gonna get mad every time one of us makes a reference, you’re in for a long rest of your life here in limbo.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just—” Jaehyun groans, exasperated. He leans back on his chair, messing with his hair in pure frustration. “It makes no sense. There’s gotta be something we can do.”

“We could watch a movie.” Three pairs of eyes land on Younghoon. He looks back at them. “In the theater. The same theater.”

They don’t answer right away, exchanging glances. It’s Chanhee who says, “It couldn’t hurt to try.”

“Are we assuming now that the movie theater is some sort of portal to hell?” Jaehyun asks.

“Maybe not to hell. To here,” Sunwoo says.

“Same difference.”

Sunwoo doesn’t answer. He knows he was the one calling it hell in the first place. “I don’t know if it’s gonna do anything, but it’s better than sitting around, I guess.”

“We could watch the same movie,” Younghoon offers. His eyes are big, anxious. It’s clear he’s putting more faith behind this idea than any of them, but he’s still doubtful.

“Does anyone know how to do that? Put the movie on in the theater?” Sunwoo asks.

“I think it’s automated. Scheduled. It just starts on its own,” Chanhee says. “We just need to catch the next session.”

Jaehyun has pulled his phone out of his pocket. “There’s a session for the same movie in half an hour, at 4:45,” he says.

They look at each other.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Jaehyun says.

Chanhee nods. “Me too.”

Younghoon and Sunwoo nod, too. It’s settled. They’re doing this.

The next thirty minutes go by painfully slowly. They talk about the food, briefly, praising Chanhee’s and Jaehyun’s cooking skills, talking about the last time they ordered this, or the next time they were gonna order that, but soon they fall silent again. Jaehyun is on his phone, playing something, one leg bouncing anxiously. Chanhee is staring at nothing in particular, frowning slightly with his chin resting on his arms on the table. Sunwoo is leaning back on his chair with his eyes closed, even though he knows he could never take a nap right now. Younghoon ends up taking their used dishes back to the restaurant, taking it upon himself to do them, even though it seems pointless to do so to the other three; when he comes back, he sits down again and pulls his legs up to his chest, balancing his phone on his knees to read a manhwa.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Sunwoo says. 

The question hangs in the air. It’s not like they weren’t thinking it already. Sunwoo wouldn’t have said anything if he hadn’t been growing more and more anxious; he couldn’t bear the silence any longer, or he’d truly lose it.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jaehyun murmurs. “We have to.”

“And if we don’t?” 

Jaehyun pauses his game, fixing Sunwoo with a look. “I don’t know, man. But I say we figure it out.”

“We just need to stick together,” Chanhee says. He‘s still staring at nothing, looking sad. “For better or for worse. Like we always do.”

“I’m still thinking why us. And just why. In general,” Jaehyun says. It sounds more like he’s thinking out loud than expecting an answer. “There’s gotta be an explanation.”

Chanhee turns his head to meet Sunwoo’s eyes. Sunwoo knows they’re thinking the same thing—there isn’t an explanation. There is nothing to explain this, nothing that would make sense. 

Finally, Younghoon says, “It’s 4:40. We should go.”

The movie theater looks exactly the same. Sunwoo’s stomach revolts at the sight of it—he feels the anxiety churning inside him, blood running cold under his skin, and wonders if maybe he should have passed on lunch. It’s too late, now. They walk into the right theater, the same room they walked into that morning. Their steps seem louder on the carpeted floor, the corners of the room darker, somehow. Right now, it feels like walking into a trap. Sunwoo tries not to think of it that way. He tries to be brave, for his own sake and for the others. He thinks of his family. He thinks of the members. He thinks of the strongest person he knows, and how he’d do anything to see him again, including walking into that place now.

They take the same seats as before, without discussing it. They sit in the same order, too: Jaehyun, Sunwoo, Chanhee, Younghoon. They’re missing the bowls of popcorn and the drinks, but they’re not thinking about that right now.

“Don’t look at your phones during the movie,” Jaehyun says. His voice echoes loudly in the dark theater. 

“Why?” Younghoon asks.

“Because… I don’t know. Just a feeling.”

“Never thought I’d live to see a superstitious Hyunjae,” Sunwoo jokes, but he’s turning off his phone. 

“Neither did I,” Jaehyun mutters under his breath. 

The screen turns on just then. It’s the same kind of ads and trailers they saw in the morning, but they seem to take forever to end. Younghoon whispers something to Chanhee, who shakes his head and whispers something back to him. They’re all anxious, nervous, wanting it to end already. It feels ridiculous, in a way, to be doing this; sitting through an entire kids movie in hopes that it’ll magically return them to the world they know, but Sunwoo is glad they’re here, trying. It’s something, at least. Even if he feels he’s gonna be sick any moment now, even if there’s a part of him that worries that this might worsen things—at least they’re doing something. It’s a plan. That’s better than sitting around, trying to explain the unexplainable.

It’s hard, sitting in the dark, watching the same scenes they watched that very same day, but they make it through the end. When the credits finally, _finally_ start rolling, a happy-feel song playing in the background, they don’t move at first. Jaehyun looks at them, but only Younghoon returns his fearful gaze. Chanhee pulls his phone out of his bag. The brightness of the screen lights up his whole face as he unlocks his phone and checks the notifications.

He gasps, one hand flying to cover his mouth. He doubles over, hiding his face and dropping his phone on Younghoon’s lap. Younghoon picks it up to look at the screen himself and opens a big smile.

“Changmin answered his texts. He answered, he—”

Chanhee sits up again to throw his arms around Younghoon. He’s crying again, harder this time. Younghoon hugs him back, but he’s laughing, still looking at the screen, at the notifications that hold so much more meaning now than they ever did. 

Sunwoo turns his phone on as Jaehyun stands up, “Did it work? Did it fucking work?”

The first thing Sunwoo notices is the time. “It’s morning again,” he says, in so much disbelief that his voice is barely audible. He repeats it louder, “It’s morning. It’s 11:47am. We went back.”

“Back? _In time_?” Jaehyun asks. He’s looking at his own phone. “Oh my God.”

He turns around and goes for the stairs. Sunwoo calls out, “ _hyung, wait!_ ” before following him. The other two are right behind them as they jog down the stairs and out of the theater.

The movie theater is busy, more people milling around than a Wednesday morning would warrant, and definitely more people than they had seen in hours. There are people at the ticket booths, people at the concession stand, people _everywhere_. Going about their business, laughing, living. Sunwoo lets out a breath that sounds more like a sob. 

“It worked,” he tells Younghoon before pulling him down for a hug. “It worked.” 

Jaehyun is on his phone, giving his back to them for a moment when someone picks up. “Mom?” He crouches down when he hears a voice on the other end of the line. Chanhee drops down to wrap his arms around him and help him up again. He’s trying his best not to cry, his voice breaking as he says into the phone, “I know, sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t look at the hour. I just wanted to check in, that’s all.”

It’s overwhelming. The mall is alive, filled with people, noise, movement, the ambient music drowned out by chatter. They compose themselves enough to walk away from the theater, trying to keep a low profile, even though Jaehyun is openly crying now that he has finished his call, and Chanhee’s eyes are still filled with tears. They walk away, together, until they’re outside, happier than they’ve ever been to hear the sounds of the city all around them. 

Younghoon is still smiling. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he saw the messages on Chanhee’s phone, which he’s still holding. “It’s all back. Twitter, the news, Naver. Everything. I think someone just posted on We The Boyz, the notifications are... Yeah, Juyeon did.”

“We’re going back to the dorm, right?” Jaehyun asks, wiping his face with his sleeves. “I really want to, don’t know about you all.”

“Yes. Please.” Chanhee’s voice is small, a contrast to Jaehyun’s overly loud one. “Let’s go back.”

The ride home is mostly quiet. Younghoon is excitedly pointing out things he’s seeing on Chanhee’s phone (“IU is trending, for some reason? Oh, they’re pushing back the new 'Doctor Strange'. Juyeon posted again? Ah, it’s Eric this time.”) while Jaehyun does his best to focus on the road and on the cars around them—the _moving_ cars around them.

“I’ve never been happier to drive during lunch rush hour,” he says, to no one in particular.

Sunwoo does only one thing as soon as they’re in the car. He unlocks his phone and opens Kakao. The messages he sent in the past few hours have vanished, but he has new messages, things that weren’t there before they walked into the theater for the second time. One of his group chats is active right now, the notifications popping up as Sunwoo stares at it, some of his friends chatting excitedly over something. He needs to scroll down to find the chat he’s looking for, since it hasn’t been used in a few weeks—an entire month, actually, he realizes when he opens it and sees the last messages. It’s a YouTube link to a live performance by a Western singer Sunwoo knows maybe two songs of, followed by:

**\- March 29, 2020 -**

**hur hyunjoon:**

thought you might like this one :) 

i’ve been learning the chords to it

it’s easier than it looks

seriously

Sunwoo can’t imagine doing the same thing again: agonizing over whether he should answer or not, reading and rereading the same four lines several times before always closing the chat without sending anything back. He thought he was being smart; he knows now just how dumb he was. So he doesn’t hesitate now. He types his message and sends it without a second thought.

**\- May 6, 2020 -**

**Sunwoo:**

are you free this weekend? 

The answer comes right away.

**hur hyunjoon:**

for real? 

i am

**Sunwoo:**

for real

I miss you

and I want to apologize in person for everything

mostly for being an ass

**hur hyunjoon:**

oh wow

free your schedule

that’s gonna take a whole day lol

and i miss you too :)

Sunwoo smiles down at his phone. He promises to text more details later, and closes the app just as Jaehyun says, “That happened, right? We didn’t hallucinate the whole thing? The gas is back where it was, like we never drove to Incheon at all.”

“It happened,” Chanhee says. He sounds more like himself now, leaning against Younghoon’s shoulder while watching what he’s doing on his phone.

“My selfie is gone,” Younghoon says. He pulls out his own phone, handing Chanhee his back. He checks something. “The one I took at the dorm to test Twitter. It’s gone both from Twitter and from my phone...”

That reminds Sunwoo to check his own gallery. His heart skips a beat. The picture is still there, the one he took in Incheon, of the words written in the sand. He turns his phone around to show it to Jaehyun, then passes it to the backseat to Younghoon and Chanhee.

“We _were_ there. It happened. We’re not crazy.”

Chanhee taps on the screen a few times. “Your phone says it was taken at 2:59pm. _Today._ It’s 12pm now. That can’t be right.”

“And why is your picture there and mine isn’t?” Younghoon asks.

“Nothing about any of this is right,” Sunwoo says. “None of it makes sense. I don’t think we’ll ever truly understand what happened today.”

There will be opportunities for them to discuss this. There will be time for them to try and come up with explanations for what happened to them in those lost hours. Right now, though, they’re content to leave it at that. Jaehyun looks tired, eyes still red-rimmed from crying. Sunwoo feels tired and oddly energized at the same time. He figures it’s still some leftover anxiety; his body is trying to come back from survival mode. That might take a minute. He doesn’t mind. The world is alive again, and so are they. 

Chanhee asks Jaehyun to drop him and Younghoon off at the company instead of the dorm. Changmin is practicing, he explains. Jaehyun does as he’s asked, watching with a smile as the two of them climb off the car and run inside without as much as a look back at them. He turns to Sunwoo. “They’re gonna be fine, right?”

“They are. They have each other,” Sunwoo says, and that’s answer enough.

When Jaehyun and Sunwoo walk into their apartment, Eric is just walking out of the kitchen with two bowls of ramen. His hair is sticking out everywhere, like he has just rolled out of bed. He spots them and says, “Hey, I’m watching some league reruns, do you—”

He cuts himself off when Jaehyun walks over to him and gives him a bear hug that’s so enthusiastic, he pulls Eric off his feet.

“Hello! Food! I’m holding food!”

Jaehyun puts him back down but doesn’t let go just yet, laying his head on Eric’s shoulder. “Oh, I missed your stupid face,”

Eric gives Sunwoo a confused look over Jaehyun’s head. “What’s gotten into him?”

Smiling, Sunwoo shrugs. He walks into the apartment and leaves Eric to handle a very emotional and probably very exhausted Jaehyun. He can deal with that.

Sunwoo isn’t sure if he’s gonna find him here. He doesn’t know his routine that well these days—he doesn’t know if he’ll be around at this time, but he still walks further into the dorm, straight to the third door on the left. It’s closed, so he knocks first, turning the knob slowly. 

Haknyeon is sitting on Jaehyun’s bed, his laptop on his thighs as he types something with furrowed brows. He looks up when Sunwoo comes in, his eyes lighting up with recognition and his expression clearing before growing cautious again. 

“Hey,” Haknyeon says. It’s small, barely nothing, just a syllable, but it’s enough to make Sunwoo’s breath catch on his throat. 

The idea of losing Haknyeon—the fact that he _did_ lose him, in some irreversible way, even if for just a few hours, is too much. It threatens to choke him, his voice losing its way to his mouth for a moment. Haknyeon is still looking at him. He’s still looking at Haknyeon.

He could never lose him again. 

So he speaks.

“I need to tell you something.”


End file.
